The Virgon Happy Ending
by fragrantfields
Summary: Bill Adama looks for a different type of shore leave,a type that Saul doesn't understand.Bill is guided first to peace, then pleasure, and finally, possibilities. Rating is for sexual content erotic massage language,sex worker.Note A/N re: OC,Laura


A/N: This includes Laura by imagery, imagination and myth, and sets the stage emotionally for Bill to be ready to meet Laura. The "OC" more of a facilitator to that process than someone in a pairing with him

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The white space hurt his eyes after months of fluorescent lights pushing against the black. For a second, Saul's suggestion of a dark and seedy strip joint sounded like the better bet, but the moment passed. The quiet drew him in. It had been a long time since he'd heard the real thing.

There'd been shore leaves that made him miss the steady thrum of engines and scrubbers…those jabbing snipes from Carolanne cutting through stretches of hostile silence. Tonight, though, standing in this cool anteroom, he didn't miss the below-deck beats. The soft ivory walls and soundless space were everything his ship was not. It started working on him before the attendant walked in, her barefoot steps and the faint swish of her thin white robe sounding unnaturally loud in the quiet.

"I'm Bill Adama. I've got a nine o'clock appointment."

"Yes…I see you didn't request a specific therapist." Her fingers hovered over the white leather-bound book in her hand, running down the column of names and times. Reading upside down, he could see the fresh _"Adama, B"_ written that afternoon, empty space beside it.

The woman before him looked like a second-year apprentice-young for this place, about thirty, still working on that air of serenity the master therapists carried. He suspected she had her studies in melodious speech ahead of her. Her words were soft and smooth but lacked the floating, "muffled chimes" quality of the masters.

"I don't have a favorite. Anyone fully certified will be fine." He glanced down at his folded hands resting on his belly, a couple of new age spots catching his eye. "And not so young she could be my daughter."

The woman's brow creased as she studied the front section of the book. He hoped he hadn't just talked himself out of the first Virgon massage he'd had in two years.

_Saul never did get it, thought it was a waste of time and money. "So what's so special about the Virgon joints? You can get your jock jerked for a quarter of the cubits at a regular brothel. Hell, my usual hang-out, you jingle a few extra coins under the table and you'll have a dancer's hand down your pants in a hot minute."_

"_It's different." Bill had bitten his tongue before "you wouldn't understand" slipped out._

"_Oh, I'm sure. Going to a whore and not getting frakked—" he'd almost choked on his drink as he snickered—"that's different."_

"_They're not whores."_

"_Then what's the frakkin' point? Godsdamn waste of money, if you ask me."_

The attendant didn't say a word as she walked with him to the shower room, the halls covered in a wheat-colored fabric that looked like a breeze had ruffled through an overgrown field. The shower room had a fresh, wet smell, like mountain water over granite. She pulled back a curtain so he could see where his clothes would go, then smiled as she left the room, pulling the solid door shut behind her with a barely audible hush.

The first minutes of quiet made the later sounds richer, warmer. He heard the water gurgling in the pipes, the tone changing as it came out in a steamy spray inside the rock-lined shower. Fitting the knob of unscented soap in his palm, he ran it over his body, leaving tiny slick bubbles behind.

He tried to keep his hair out of the spray while he scrubbed his face, then went to work on the rest of his body. He was already unwinding as he slowly dried himself on the thick white towels. He liked that Virgon parlors had no mirrors on the walls. There was no risk of an accidental glimpse of his aging body, no compulsion to critique the loss of tone of his arms, the slackness of his belly. He wrapped a towel around his waist and padded into the adjoining room. The air was a few degrees cooler than his skin and carried a hint of earthy spice. He smiled as he surveyed the sparse surroundings: a massage table, a small cupboard, and one tall, stalky plant in a reed pot

The paper-screened door slid open and the Virgon therapist entered with a traditional greeting, a sing-song melody in her voice that washed away months of barked military greetings. She was nondescript in a pleasant way: indeterminate age, pale hair knotted at the back of her neck, cool brown eyes, no outstanding features to jar the pleasant harmony. She blended with the room like milk blended with cream, all of a piece.

"Good evening, Bill. I'm Olivia. Is there anything I can get you before we begin?"

"Is Scotch an option?"

She smiled. "We have water and a Tauron tea blend."

"Maybe some water later." He inhaled the faint familiar scent, trying to place it. Gliding to his side, she took his hand and led him to stand by the table.

"I need to take your towel."

He stood as straight as he could, sucking in his stomach as her hands unknotted the towel and pulled it from his waist. Bill had always enjoyed a woman's well-groomed, manicured hands, polished nails shining against his skin. These hands were strong, ringless, fingernails short and plain. Nothing to look at or fantasize about…then she put her palms at his collarbone. His cock stirred at the sudden heat. Olivia smiled without looking down, like she'd sensed his arousal.

She stroked along his body, silent. Her fingers traced the lines of his muscles, dipping into the valleys of his hipbones, knees, and ankles as she knelt. Her hand ran back up his side, tickling his waist, then rested on his shoulder as she moved behind him. She didn't use any pressure but the warmth still left a trail. She repeated the grazing touch along his back, ass and legs, squeezing his ankles gently before rising again.

"You've spent months on a spaceship."

"That's right. What gave it away?"

"Men's musculature goes through changes around the sixth month. It's not anything unhealthy, but it feels different to us."

He looked down, wondering if he could see what she was talking about. He shrugged. It was still the same light brown, slightly beat-up body it'd been for the last twenty years.

"Please lie face down on the table."

Olivia turned her back to him, and he welcomed the privacy as he hiked his leg to clamber up onto the sheet-covered surface. He was past the age of being able to do this with any grace. As he settled on his stomach, he looked up to see a creamy expanse of skin above the soft white robes now ending at the therapist's hips. She had unwound the fabric forming the top, leaving her upper body and narrow waist bare. He grinned and rested his cheek on his folded arms. Saul would cackle if he knew Bill found a woman's naked back almost as erotic as a firm pair of tits. He loved those long curving lines….

She turned around and he thought he'd have to emphasize "almost" in that imagined conversation. Olivia had tucked the top fabric into her waistband, leaving her sloping breasts uncovered. They seemed like they would have some heft, soft and full, tipped with dark pink nipples. _Definitely not young enough to be his daughter_, he thought, but there was something charming about the strong breadth of her shoulders and a body that looked like she had worked hard in her youth, fed babies, raised children. It was a good look on her.

Bill closed his eyes as he listened to her walk near the table. After a faint _click_, a hushed instrumental of Tauron drums began playing an old children's lullaby of war songs. The spice scent seemed to grow stronger.

The subtle ethnic touches made him curious. "Did your receptionist pick up that Adama is a Tauron name?"

"She thought it might be. Then when I saw you, I knew you were Tauron."

He opened his eyes. "Actually, I'm Caprican. Born right here in Caprica City."

"Raise your head, please." She pulled his arms out and down to his sides, guiding his head to a hollow head rest. He settled his forehead and chin into the padded foam as she continued.

"You may be Caprican by birth, but you're a son of Tauron by sense and soul." He heard her opening bottles as she talked around the drums. "The scent of Tauron cooking spices made you draw deeper breaths. I saw you swallowing with memories when I offered Tauron tea." She rested her hand on his back. "The drum-lullaby made your heart beat to its rhythm."

He'd lost his beginning erection, guided back to his childhood by her talk. He relaxed into the past, into memories of his proud, fierce grandmother, his tattooed uncle, and his father, a warrior with words. She had taken his role as Commander off along with his towel, peeling him further with her hypnotic talk about his Tauron nature. It felt good to lie there and just be Bill.

.

.

He wasn't sure how much time had passed. Olivia had started at his scalp and worked her way down, spending enough time at the base of his neck to finally break the knot of tension he'd carried there for months. On long, deep strokes, she'd leaned over him, sometimes barely touching her nipples against his skin, other times pressing her breasts to his back hard enough for him to feel her heartbeat. Slim fingers outlined his triceps, his biceps, finding all the small muscles under his skin that supported the large ones and gave them their power.

He felt her fists roll up and down his spine, running up the curve of his ass before going back down to his waist and up to his neck. His nerve endings were shooting sparks from every direction, all aiming straight south. She finally placed rolled towels under his pelvic bones, raising his hips enough to give his hardening cock some breathing room.

She added two more towels when she started working on his glutes. He groaned as Olivia pressed her palms, then her fists hard against his bunched-up muscles, grinding like she was tenderizing a piece of tough meat. He felt the hours of standing in the CIC dissolving and being sluiced down and out of his body.

Firm circling strokes opened and closed him, her thumbs running deep into his valley and down over his balls at the end of each stroke. He shifted upwards to relieve the pressure on his cock, surprising himself when his hips flowed into a rocking motion against her oil-coated hands as they slid deeper. He was mulling over how far to let her go when her thumbs began gently pressing against him, asking an unspoken question. Both of them held still while his breathing stopped, then started again. He slowly angled his hips up, impaling himself on the first inch of her waiting thumb. She gave him another slow inch as he held himself up, his cock jumping against the sheets.

Bill squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn't been finger-banged in years, other than a few tentative pokes of his own when he jerked off in the shower. He'd almost forgotten that free-falling feeling, that instant when it was too late to say no to the breach, nothing to do but absorb the stretching intrusion controlled by someone else.

He wanted to turn his head, ask her to finger-frak him hard, reach under him, and… He groaned when she gently pushed his ass back down, sliding him almost off her thumb. His cock was mashed under him enough to hurt a little. He bit his cheek when he felt fingertips at the front of his hip, guiding him up again. Thigh muscles loose, he started back into the rocking rhythm, the palm of her hand hitting against his flesh each time he pushed hard to get her in deep. He could feel his balls tightening…then Carolanne's voice jumped into his head.

"_Gods, Bill, she's not even up to Saul Tigh's standards! You're not even gonna get laid, you frakkin' loser. You're ridiculous. You're pathetic!"_

He froze in place, heart skipping a beat. He could see himself- a middle-aged man…incapable of keeping his wife, his family, happy…reduced to paying for it, buying time with a Virgon matron. His movements stuttered as his face flamed and his erection wilted. "Look, I—"

"Shhh."

She pressed his body down over his softened cock, twisting her hand until her seated thumb brushed his prostate. Face still hot, he lay still and let the deep wave of pleasure ripple through him. She nudged over the sensitive bump again and again, her weight, with her breasts against his back, holding him immobile, sparks running up his spine. He thickened again, growing slick and shivery with reborn need.

"Is she gone?" she asked quietly.

"What're you talking about?"

She slowly slid her thumb out of his body, pressing lightly against him once before breaking contact.

"Someone was in your head. Someone who…makes you ashamed."

_Oh, yeah, Olivia had completed voice training_. The words still chimed in his head as he processed her question.

He realized he was having a hard time picturing Carolanne's face. The drums, slower now, had silenced her nagging voice.

A relieved sigh came from his gut, his body loose again.

"Yeah, she's gone." He closed his eyes as he heard running water, then Olivia's soft tones again.

"Turn over, please."

He rolled onto his back, hands moving to cover his cock before he caught himself. He watched her eyes crinkle as she grinned. "You dismissed her very quickly. You're stronger than you realize."

"This place is what's doing it…the atmosphere, the music." He closed his eyes again. "You."

She leaned over his chest, positioning his arms where she wanted them, bringing her breasts near his mouth. He could smell her scent now, a mix of salt and spiced honey. "You carry your own kind of strength."

As she worked on his temples, then his chest, he felt his limbs grow heavy. Olivia whispered a quiet stream of observations about his warm dark skin, his luxuriant hair, still scented with yesterday's ship soap, the arrow of curls that whorled together below his navel. Her voice blended with the drums and he began fading in and out, his mind lulled while a throbbing, winding sensation started to gather in his core.

He looked up, eyes half-closed. "Could I—would you mind taking down your hair?"

He began thinking he'd only imagined asking, from her long silence. Finally, her breasts rolled over his shoulder as she brought her lips to his ear. "Do you like long, loose hair?"

Her nipples felt hard against his arm. "Yeah."

"I can tell you about a woman with long, loose hair. Would you like to hear her story?"

"You gonna keep doing what you're doing?"

"Yes."

She put music in the one word as she stroked lightly across his belly, then deep into his hip joints. Blood started humming in his pelvis as he breathed out, "Okay."

"You know the story of the Old Warrior, if you're a child of Tauron. Your mother would have told you before you left her womb." She began pressing the backs of her fists into his inner thighs.

He frowned, eyes closed. "The warrior who has to die." He felt the tempo of the music change, the drums of war louder.

"Yes, that story." She took a deep breath and began, matching her speech to the pattern of the drums.

"_The Old Warrior was weary, and his children were young and strong. They raised against him every Ending Season, and every Ending Season he beat them back. But Father Age became his boon companion, and it became harder and harder for him to win."_

Her wrists brushed his erection as she worked on his legs. She dropped a light kiss at his navel. The winding tension continued in his gut.

"_The Ending Season came that would see his children win. They would send a warrior who would take the Old Warrior's place, and spill his old strong blood into the battleground, and feed the earth for Seasons to come."_

He nodded. He remembered his grandmother telling him old Tauron myths, reassuring a small boy that he'd grow strong enough to take his father's place one day.

"_It was ever thus_. _All had happened before_, _and __all_ _would happen again. But one Season, there was a change in the way of things."_

Bill's shoulders tensed as the story changed from the remembered familiar words, then relaxed again as she ran her palms down the sides of his cock. His breath hitched as she moved her fingers underneath to tug lightly at his balls.

"_The Old Warrior's children were massed at the edge of the battlefield. His back braced against a thousand-year tree, the Old Warrior felt his sword droop towards the earth, and readied for death. But as the tip of his sword touched the ground, a Warrior Woman appeared before him._

"_Her hair was the color of the flames of the Great Forge, her eyes green as the Ocean With No End. 'Come with me, Old Warrior,' she said. 'I will save your life; I will ease your heart.'"_

He felt Olivia add warm oil to the hand holding his cock, and imagined a flame-haired woman gliding her hand over the head.

"'_No, Warrior Woman, my fate is here, to fight and die as all warriors must.'_

"_Sparks flew off the tips of her hair. She asked again. 'Come with me, Old Warrior. I will give you rest, I will make you strong.'"_

The table creaked under Olivia's weight as she settled herself between his legs, nudging him open with her knees. One hand worked his balls, a finger behind them, teasing. He started thrusting into her hand, stopping when she gripped the base and held tight. She continued the story when he was still, submitting to her touch and breathing deep.

"'_No, Warrior Woman. My path is towards the battlefield. I do not run, afraid like a child. I am a warrior, and I am not made to flee.'"_

"_The Warrior Woman's hair snapped like wildfire on a summer night and she laughed into the universe in tones so pure, the Gods sent the sound back for lovers to make when they are truly joined together."_

Her firm stroking began again. He could feel a heavy coiling, impossibly tight and hot in his groin.

"'_Foolish warrior, you misunderstand me. I would not ask a warrior to run away from battle. I cannot join with a coward. I too have my path, and it leads me to the strongest and wisest of men. I ask you to join me in the hunt. Come run with me, be by my side as we chase our prey in the morning and lie together in the night.'"_

The trembling started at his jaw, traveling down his neck, his chest, until his belly quaked. Olivia's hand twisted at the top of every stroke, squeezing under the head. Behind his eyelids, he could see a fierce, strong woman with flaming hair and cool eyes, challenging him to fight with her, to frak her. He gripped the sides of the table with Olivia's voice the only tether holding him to reality.

"_The Warrior Woman asked a third time, and held out a pale strong hand."_

They both were panting now, his legs shaking as his hips bucked. In his mind, he saw Olivia's hand changing into the hand of the Warrior Woman, threatening to move out of his reach if he didn't surge towards her with his body.

"_The Old Warrior heard all the warriors that ever were, and all the warriors that ever will be, cry out a mighty 'Good Hunting!' as he took her hand and joined…her…in…the...chase!"_

His rough cry met her ragged voice as he shot milky streams into the air, hitting her throat, her breasts, his chest...he sobbed out his release as he kept coming, eyes rolled back in his head, his back bowing as her hand rode him to the finish.

After the last spurt, Olivia released him with a final squeeze. Tears streaked down his temples and cheeks. She straightened her legs behind her, lying on him belly to belly, her head on his chest. His seed cooled between them as his tears slowed.

He kept the image she'd painted in his mind as she got up to fetch a thin blanket. He opened his eyes enough to see that her hands were shaking as she cleaned and covered him. Her exhausted voice had lost its music as she told him to rest as long as he liked, she'd be back soon.

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The blissful stoned feeling lasted through his shower and getting dressed again, still flickering around the edges of his senses as he finished the business part of the evening. Feeling a little guilty that his Virgon therapist looked tired and drained, he added an extra twenty cubits to her fee. The anteroom now seemed too clean for their rumpled appearance.

"Can I ask you something?" he said.

"Of course, Bill."

"I heard plenty of Tauron warrior stories when I was a kid, but I never heard that one. Where'd you find it?"

Her smile was wan. "I'm not really sure. I may have heard it in my studies, but it felt more like…like I opened myself to the story, and it was all there." She lowered her eyes, then looked up at him. "Maybe the Gods thought it was a story you needed to hear."

She disappeared behind a back curtain as he slowly left the room and went back into the busy Caprican night.

_This would hold him for a while_, he thought, as he walked towards the taxi stand on the next block. He'd never particularly been one for redheads before, but he suspected he'd be noticing every one that crossed his path from now on. They wouldn't be mythic warrior women, of course. But he had the feeling that there might be one out there who would come close enough. It was a novel feeling, touched with hope.


End file.
